


Britain's Next Top Daddy

by kimposibl



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Gen, M/M, shameless!daddy kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-26 15:42:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3856105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimposibl/pseuds/kimposibl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I blame a Tumblr post and all the Kingsman pics of Harry Hart circling the web</p><p>--</p><p>At a loss of what to do about his unruly son and heir to his fortune, Lee Unwin decides that Eggsy needs a Daddy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Life of Petty Crime and Drugs

**Author's Note:**

> Please read this [ Tumblr post ](http://hartwintrashcan.tumblr.com/post/116349386269) first. It's where I got the title and idea for this story.
> 
> I couldn't stop thinking about it for days and wanted to write a fic about it. I had an epiphany and now, I should be arrested. And thrown into a landfill. 
> 
> Fic note: As I will explain, a Daddy isn't anything bad, but like a Super Nanny and educator and disciplinarian all in one. If sex is involved then that just so happens. It's acceptable and normal to have one.

“Thank you, Officer Michaels. You’ve always looked out for my son.”

Officer Michaels tips his hat to both Mr. and Mrs. Unwin. “It’s no trouble, Mr. Unwin. Eggsy’s a good lad. Young men often get mixed up with bad crowds. Goodday.” He leaves the doorstep of the Unwin Estate. Lee closes the door and waits until Officer Michaels is in his car before storming into the sitting room to find his son.

Gary Unwin, affectionately known as “Eggsy”, is indeed a good kid. He’s smart, too smart, and cocky because he knows it. Despite having attended Oxford for physics, Eggsy decided that he wanted to fuck off after graduation with some mates he found in South London and hasn’t shown any interest in going into the family business. Instead, he deals drugs, boosts cars, shoplifts, and gets into bar fights. No one would recognize him as Lee Unwin’s only son and heir to the Unwin fortune amassed through a combination of old money and new money in the stock exchange and venture capitalism. Eggsy wears trackies and trainers and a cap for God’s sakes. Years and years of public school education and etiquette lessons wasted, and Lee knows exactly why. He had a similar (though not as bad) experience in his youth.

“Gary Unwin!” he exclaims angrily. “I’ve told you many times to stay away from those hoodlums. You’re fortunate we have connections with the Met!” Eggsy slouches back on the sofa and crosses his arms. “Stealing a car then crashing it will not do, Eggsy. You could have gotten hurt or thrown into jail. And you’ve made your mum cry!” Eggsy glances guiltily at Michelle. "You shouldn't have covered for the other boys, either. Sitting in jail would have done them some good."

“Well, I ain’t hurt or in jail so,” Eggsy shrugs nonchalantly. “Everyfing’s fine. Can I go now? ‘M busy.”

Lee visibly cringes. “No, I’m not finished with you yet. And for Christ’s sakes, Eggsy, speak properly.”

“What for?” his son says, thickening his accent purposefully. Eggsy leans forward, his head tilting up so he can see his father from under his cap. “I fink I speak jus’ fine. You understandin’ me good enough to be yellin’ an’ all.”

Lee glances desperately at his wife, who gives him a sympathetic look and a nod. She’s tried sweet talking Eggsy into staying out of trouble, and it worked for a few weeks until Eggsy got dropped off at their doorstep at three a.m. after being caught dealing marijuana. After the stint on last week on the corner of Smith street, however, they decided that they would have to take more drastic measures. Eggsy obviously needed guidance, a firm hand, and discipline. Nannies and tutors had long since been inadequate, and body guards start to think they work for Eggsy because they gravitate towards his charismatic and fun demeanor and decide they trust and like him, who treats them like he would his best mates. Lee needs someone who won’t take any of Eggsy’s shit, no matter how adorable and annoyingly likable he is.

“You’re complacent,” Lee says evenly, steeling himself. That gets Eggsy’s attention. “You believe our money and connections puts you above gentlemanly behavior and hard work. Your mother and I have decided that we are going to find someone to set you on the right path.” A dawning look of horror crosses Eggsy’s face.

“No, father, please.”

Lee forces himself to continue, “We will have a selection of candidates by the end of the week, and you will choose one, Eggsy. If you don’t, then your mum and I will.”

Eggsy gets to his feet, looking desperately between his parents. “I don’t want one of those!” he says, pleading, the Queen’s English finally leaving his lips properly. “They ruin everything!” 

“Daddy’s certainly do not,” Lee says. “I had one. Every established family has had one steward an heir. It’s normal.”

“It’s not normal,” Eggsy cries, now sounding overdramatic. Lee places his hands on his hips, his patience thinning. He hopes Eggsy’s Daddy will be able to correct his son’s exceptionally bratty behavior. “Rox got one and she’s so boring now! She won’t even go out to bars and hit on birds with me anymore!”

“Roxanne is a proper young lady now,” Lee says not unkindly, “It’s wonderful for her and her family. She isn’t unhappy, is she?”

Eggsy’s brows furrow, thinking on it. Lee and Michelle see the Mortons quite often at charity events and Roxanne exudes confidence, elegance and contentment. She was a diamond in the rough, but her Daddy polished her into a radiant stone worthy of every envy. She is still headstrong and sassy, but it’s been disguised as sarcasm so witty and sharp that the offender is too distracted by her femininity to try and understand what she is saying. Her parents are overwrought with joy.

“S’ppose not,” Eggsy concedes. “That don’t mean it’s for me.”

“It is, Eggsy,” Lee says. “It’s for anyone who needs it. Now, go get cleaned up. It’s almost time for breakfast.” Eggsy slowly trots into the foyer and up the stairs like he’s walking to his execution. Lee sighs when his son is out of earshot and Michelle wraps her arms around him.

“You did well,” she murmurs, kissing him. “Eggsy will thank us in the end.” 

“I’m just hoping we can find a Daddy who will put up with him,” Lee says worriedly. “I’ve never heard of any of my peers or their heirs being as unruly as Eggsy. And he has the uncanny ability to win anyone over to his side, even his enemies.” He cradles his wife’s jaw affectionately. “I will need to contact Arthur this afternoon.”

“I can meet with him, dear,” Michelle supplies. She kisses him chastely and goes to get Daisy ready for her tutoring. Lee needs to prepare for his usual long day at work.


	2. Take It From Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee calls Arthur. Eggsy sees Roxy again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your feedback. I have edited the tags. I wanted this to be a crack fic but I focus too much on detail and ugh, long story short: this.

Eggsy takes off his cap and tosses it onto his cluttered desk. He collapses face first on his bed, suddenly exhausted. He pulls out his mobile and sees numerous texts from Jamal and Ryan, asking him if he’s alright. Eggsy tells them he’s fine and that he’ll catch up with them later.

 

The reason why Eggsy gets involved in the shadier parts of London is because he hates the pretentious life was born into. He’s not ungrateful; Eggsy’s seen enough poverty and crime to know how fortunate he is. Jamal and Ryan weren’t born with silver spoons up their arses like he was, but they’re good people and great friends. They don’t know who Eggsy really is, and he’d like to think that they wouldn’t care either way even though he’s been lying to them all this time. Eggsy just doesn’t like how stifling and fake his life is, and wandering the streets causing trouble is authentic, much more fun, and he didn’t hurt anyone (who wasn’t asking for it). His public school mates are all snobs except for Roxy. She’s still his best mate even though she doesn’t have much time for him anymore.

 

He finds Roxy’s name in his contacts and texts, ‘Dinner tonight?’ He gets up and starts taking off his clothes for a shower. Its almost 7 a.m. and he’s been out all night, but he has to sit with his family for breakfast. It’s the one tradition they can’t break. His phone pings.

 

**Roxy** Sure. 8?

 

Eggsy texts back, ‘Yes. Our usual spot.’

 

**Roxy** See you! : )

 

To Eggsy, having a Daddy is equivalent to having a chaperone except a Daddy is unrestricted in what he can and cannot do; there aren’t any boundaries to his methods. They are effective in cultivating strong business leaders and politicians, however, so there is a strong demand for them. He is a no-nonsense posh bloke who is the perfect gentleman and perfect guardian. They are extremely intelligent and often combat trained, as most clients prefer their children to be in the care of someone both strong willed and capable of providing protection. Eggsy heard rumors that they are recruited from MI6 to become private contractors, though why any man would want to become a glorified nanny instead of James Bond is beyond him.

 

His father will be lucky if he can find one on such short notice. And despite a Daddy’s high success rate, Eggsy plans on being the statistical anomaly.

 

\--

 

When Lee gets a chance between meetings, he flips through his rolodex to find Arthur’s contact information. He hasn’t spoken to the man in many years, not since he was about Eggsy’s age. Arthur only spent about a year with him, but it was one of the most difficult times of Lee’s life.  At the time, Arthur had been the strictest, best Daddy in Britain. Lee’s mother was the one who had called him for Lee’s re-education when Lee was fresh out of Cambridge and apparently had picked up bad habits.

 

Lee didn’t regret it. He’s actually thankful he had someone to instill the discipline he needed to run the family business and eventually become a man worthy of his wife and children.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Yes, hello. This is Lee Unwin. Is this Chester King?”

 

“Ah, yes, speaking.” Familiarity bleeds over the speaker. “How are you, Mr. Unwin?”

 

“Well, Arthur,” he replies, automatically switching to Mr. King’s Daddy name. “Thank you. And yourself?”

 

“Enjoying life. That sort of boring shite. Is everything alright?”

 

“Yes, sir. Well, it’s my son, Eggsy. He’ll be needing a Daddy. A very strict one, you see.”

 

“Ah, of course. I know of a few. Could you meet with me to discuss your son?”

 

“My wife, Michelle, would be happy to.”

 

“Wonderful. She can come by the shop at around nine tomorrow.”

 

Lee lets out a breath of relief. “Thank you, Arthur. I appreciate your help.”

 

“Of course, my boy. I will see your wife tomorrow, then.”

 

“Goodbye, Arthur.”

 

“Goodbye, Mr. Unwin.”

 

Lee ends the call. His secretary comes into his office reminding him that he has ten more minutes until his next meeting.  Surprisingly, he feels so much better. The difficult part will be getting someone for Eggsy, but at least he was able to make an appointment to see Arthur.

 

\--

 

Eggsy and Roxy’s usual place is a posh Italian restaurant and bar near Hyde Park. He wears a black suit with a silver shirt because he won’t be allowed inside in anything less, but he likes dressing up sometimes. He gets a two person table near the back and orders a bottle of red wine while he waits. Ten minutes later, Roxy shows up in a royal purple dress that accentuates her figure nicely but still looks professional. Eggsy stands to greet her and sees that she’s not alone. He tries not to let his displeasure show.

 

“Hey, Roxy. You look incredible.”

 

“Thanks. You’re not so bad.” She kisses his cheek then takes the chair across from him. Thankfully, Percival sits at the bar, but he glares minutely at Eggsy over his shoulder. Eggsy wants to flick him off. “Be nice,” Roxy says.

 

“D’you really have you bring your dog along?” Eggsy asks, sitting down.

 

“I keep him on a short leash,” she says, shrugging. Eggsy pours her a glass of wine as she looks through the menu.

 

“Bet he doesn’t mind that,” Eggsy mutters dryly. It’s not a secret between him and Roxy what she and her Daddy really get up to. Eggsy can’t tell in which direction the power struggle lies, but he imagines that’s what Roxy likes best. Percival should know better, in Eggsy’s opinion, but he’s playing Roxy’s games quite well if he’s stuck around this long and brought so much change in her.

 

A waitress comes by to take their orders. When she leaves, the general manager, a balding rotund man, takes her place, all smiles and compliments. Eggsy and Roxy answer his questions in succinct, polite sentences in an effort to get him to leave faster. He talks to them for five minutes. It’s the bane of being posh regulars.

 

“I’m glad you came out,” Eggsy says once they’re alone. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”

 

“I’m at all the social events,” Roxy informs him.

 

“Not any of the _fun_ ones,” Eggsy grouses. Roxy rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “I’m surprised Percival allowed you to see me.” The last time Eggsy saw Roxy, Percival had been her Daddy for three months and she’d been forbidden from _fraternizing_ with him until he changed his ways. Eggsy wanted to start a fist fight with Percival and would have undoubtedly landed on his arse in less than ten seconds if Roxy hadn’t stepped in. Colorful words were exchanged on Eggsy’s part, and Percival, ever the gentleman, took them in stride, but his expression promised a death sentence.

 

Needless to say, they hate each other.

 

“He indulges me if I ask nicely,” Roxy says over the rim of her wine glass.

 

“Bet you ask real nice.”

 

“Not as nice as you, Eggsy,” she says, as if she’d know. Eggsy smirks.

 

“If you share, we can have Percival decide.”

 

“I don’t share,” Roxy replies quickly, suddenly serious, and Eggsy raises his hands in placation.

 

“Alright,” he says a tad nervously. He’d been joking, but Roxy clearly didn’t find it funny. “He’s not really my type anyway. Too stiff.” Roxy relaxes.

 

“That’s the best part about him.”

 

Eggsy laughs. “God, Roxy. I’ve missed the shit out of you.”

 

Their food arrives. Eggsy always orders the spaghetti with meatballs. Roxy’s pick this time is the mushroom gnocchi.

 

“You’re going to have a type soon though, aren’t you?” Roxy muses between bites. “Heard your parents talking to mine the other night.” Eggsy gives a long suffering groan. “It’s not as bad as you think.”

 

“But it is, Rox,” he practically whines. “No offense, but I don’t want someone telling me what to do, or trying to change who I am.”

 

“That’s not what a Daddy does, Eggsy. He redirects,” Roxy explains mildy. She leans forward. “You trust me, don’t you?”

 

Eggsy glances over her shoulder and notices the way Percival’s turned to the side in his seat, a watchful eye on them as he nurses a martini. Eggsy’s learned quite a bit hanging out with the ‘hoodlums’ of South London. He’s learned how to nick things without people noticing; he’s actually quite gifted at pick pocketing. He’s also learned how to read people. Targets are easy to find if you know what you’re looking for, and he’s made easy money in poker by playing his opponent rather than playing the game.

 

The last time Eggsy saw Percival, he couldn’t read much from him. Percival was dressed, like he is now, in a bespoke suit, dark hair immaculately combed to the side, with thick rimmed glasses. He was stony and disapproving. Eggsy thought he was a proper posh snob and not anyone who could make Roxy do anything she didn’t want to. Neither his face nor body language gave anything else away. Now, Eggsy can read all sorts of things off of Percival, especially in the way his eyes are strictly on Roxy. He’s not paying any attention to Eggsy, so his expression is completely unguarded. Eggsy can interpret the possession in his eyes, the desire on his lips, and his intentions in tilt of his head. There’s a woman across the bar who keeps looking at Percival, but even she must be able to see he won’t be receptive to anyone but Roxy.

 

Eggsy didn’t expect him to stay for longer than half a year. Sure, Roxy is headstrong and smart as a whip, but a Daddy doesn’t need more than a year to work with his client, especially if he is around full time. Percival’s been around for nearly fourteen months.

 

“Yeah,” Eggsy says slowly. “I trust you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone's wondering, Lee and Arthur did not have any sexual aspects in their time together. That's all. 
> 
> Thanks as always for reading! Harry Hart to arrive in next chapter.


	3. First Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Hart meets Eggsy Unwin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Borrowed some scenes from the movie, mostly notably the first time Harry and Eggsy meet and the bar fight scene.
> 
> I am really unhappy with this chapter. It seemed better in my head. The direction isn't where I thought I'd go with this.... ughhhh. *bangs head on desk*

Michelle chews her lip as the hired car takes her to Kingsman Tailor. She is a little apprehensive about finding a Daddy for her son. Unlike Lee, Michelle came from a middle class family. She always believed in raising one’s own offspring and using physical means of corporal punishment if needed, not to be doled out by anyone not family. Maybe she and Lee failed with disciplining Eggsy, but he’s an amazing boy with the kindest heart. He’s never disrespected or raised his voice against them, though he does come close with his snarky comments. She believed Eggsy was acting out because Lee is always busy, even though he’s an excellent husband and father besides, but after talking it out with Lee, they decided that Eggsy needs direction, a goal to work towards.

 

The car pulls up to a tailor shop on Savile Row. Michelle steps out when the door opens and stares up at the display of suits behind the window. She knows that Lee gets some of his suits made here. Chester King, or Arthur as Lee calls him, owns the shop and consults families in search of a Daddy. Since his retirement, he has been a liaison who works with both parties to find a compatible match.

 

Michelle enters the shop and meets Arthur, an older gentleman in a dove grey pinstripe suit.

 

“Mrs. Unwin,” he greets. “Pleasure to meet you.”

 

“You as well, Arthur. How are you?” They shake hands.

 

“Very well, thank you. Please follow me.” She follows him up a short set of steps and into an office in the end of a hallway. “How is your morning so far?”

 

“About to get better, hopefully.” She gives a wry laugh. “My son come to breakfast with a black eye and split lip, so.”

 

“Oh dear.” Arthur closes the door behind them and walks around his desk. He gestures to one of the plush armchairs in front of it. Michelle takes a seat.

 

“He’s a good boy, he is,” Michelle tries to explain. “But lately, he’s been getting into loads of trouble, and my husband and I were hoping you could provide us with someone to work with him.”

 

“I see,” says Arthur. “I have several gentleman available, although it is best that we get to know your son better for an appropriate match. What is his name?”

 

“Gary Unwin, sir. But we call him Eggsy.”

 

“Depending on Eggsy’s personality and how much work he needs, along with your specifications, I can determine who to recommend. I hope you have a few hours to spare.”

 

\--

 

Harry Hart loves his mum. He really does, but even he wouldn’t subject his worst enemy to sit with her for tea. Even at seventy-seven, she’s as sharp as a tack, but is clearly bored as bloody hell if all she wants to talk about is Harry’s lack of a personal life and the latest gossip among her peers. It’s maddening.

 

“- recently divorced,” she is saying. “I never wanted a divorcee for you, but at your age, it’s all I can find!” She exclaims, as if that is Harry’s fault.

 

“Quite the shame,” he intones.

 

“I’m glad you find this amusing, Harry. You seem to think I don’t want what is best for you. I told you years ago that you should settle down, find a wife, and give me grandchildren. This ‘Daddy’ business you’re involved in hasn’t done any favors for your love life, so what good is it?”

 

“As I recall, you are best of friends with a member of the Royal Family and well acquainted with several members of Parliament because of my ‘Daddy’ business.”

 

“Don’t get snarky with me.” Julia Hart gives an overly dramatic sigh and no matter what kind of proper disposition Harry thinks he has, it’s all he can do not to roll his eyes. “If only your father could listen to the way to speak to me, God rest his soul.” She turns her tea cup. “A mother worries,” she says softly. “I know you could have anyone you wanted, even a young thing if you so desired; no one would think it scandalous. But you don’t care for it.”

 

Harry finishes his tea, silent.

 

“Well, you’ve endured an old woman’s ranting,” Julia says lightly, shifting the conversation. “But next time you visit me, I expect you to bring a guest.”

 

As Harry is leaving his family home in Essex his phone beeps. It’s a message from Chester King asking him to come by his shop. It’s mid-afternoon. Harry has the time. There isn’t much going on in his life these days. Being picky with his clients will do that.

 

It takes him nearly two hours to get to Kingsman in his hired car. Harry takes his umbrella with him as he enters the shop. He greets Albert with a nod as he is busy with a customer and lets himself upstairs. Chester is sitting at his desk with his laptop open.

 

“Harry, good to see you.”

 

“Good afternoon, Arthur.” Harry takes a seat in front of the desk and leans his umbrella against the side.

 

“I have a very interesting client for you, and I wanted to speak to you about him in person.” Harry crosses his legs, intrigued. Chester turns his laptop towards him. Harry takes it and brings it closer. “Gary Unwin. Affectionately known as ‘Eggsy’. Aged twenty five,” Chester says as Harry reads. “Graduated from Cambridge then decided to spend the next few years in South London. His parents are at their wits end.”

 

Harry reads over Gary’s Uni transcripts. There aren’t any official police reports on him, but there’s a nice outline of his recreational activities. He’s handsome, apparent even through the grainy government ID photo lens. Harry moves briefly onto his parents’ less detailed profiles. Until he meets Lee and Michelle, he won’t be able to gauge if there is any trouble in their family dynamic, but Arthur assures him there isn’t.

 

“I am recommending you because Mrs. Unwin was very distraught, and Gary seems like he will be quite the challenge.” Arthur leans back in his seat.

 

From what Harry has read so far, he can see that Gary Unwin is extremely intelligent and terribly bored. Being on the streets for the past few years would have taught him a thing or two, as well, and his eclectic informal police blotter shows his array of learned skills. He has the potential to be an operative in MI6 if he had any inclination or ambition to do something useful with his talents. Harry could mould him in whichever way he wanted, sculpt him into a young man who could control Parliament or the stock exchange. There’s honestly nothing more tempting than untapped potential buried deep in layers of bedrock and sharp metal.

 

Arthur called him because he is the best, but Arthur also knows Harry cannot refuse the opportunity to concentrate a burst of energy of a burning star into laser focus.

 

“What do his parents want?” Harry asks. Arthur gives him a small, satisfied smirk.

 

“For Gary to become a gentleman, first and foremost, and to start showing interest in taking responsibility of his father’s business, although they are open to any interests Gary has for himself that do not involve crime or drugs.”

 

“When can I meet the Unwin’s?”

 

\--

 

Eggsy gets shoved none too gently into the holding cell. Usually, he gets one to himself, but this time he gets put in a larger one with three other blokes. It’s either a busy night or the officer who arrested him is new. Eggsy leans up against the bars as the door closes and locks.

 

“Can I get my phone call?” he slurs, the lid of his cap sliding up his head when he leans forward. The officer gives him a bland look.

 

“Lines are busy. Wait your turn,” he says. Eggsy rolls his eyes and thumps the side of his head against the metal bars.

 

He slides away and finds a spot on the bench against the wall. One bloke in a rumpled business suit, obviously pissed out of his mind, stares at him. “The fuck you lookin’ at?” Eggsy demands. The man looks like one of the low tier muppets that work for his father, posh yet completely unrefined otherwise. He’s probably about mid-thirties, with thinning hair, and a potbelly. His suit isn’t tailored, and his cuffs have buttons on them. Eggsy isn’t a snob but he knows who looks like they aren’t trying hard enough.

 

“I’ll get you out of here if you suck my cock,” he says, leering.

 

“Can’t get my mouth around nuffin’ that ain’t there, bruv,” Eggsy quips. “Sorry.”

 

The man’s face turns red, his head resembling a lumpy, old tomato. “A pretty chav like you’s gonna have fun in prison,” he sneers.

 

“Your wife would trade places with me if it means she gets a real cock in her, but she’s probably already getting it from somewhere else.”

 

The man snarls and lunges at Eggsy, who easily dodges by standing up. The man crashes hard on the bench. He curses and tries to get at Eggsy again, but several officers come rushing in and haul him away. An officer beckons Eggsy to the door, and he leaves the cell to make his call in a nearby room.

 

“Hello?” comes Michelle’s sleepy voice.

 

“Mum? It’s me, Eggsy.” He hears her make a soft, concerned noise.

 

“Oh, babe. Are you alright?”

 

“Yeah, ‘m in holding. Can you get me?” Eggsy hears shifting on the other end.

 

“Eggsy.” It’s his father. Eggsy feels his heart sink. “Your mum and I aren’t coming to get you. Goodnight.”

 

“What?! But –“ The line clicks dead. “Fuck.” He hangs up and clenches his fist. He’s never stayed overnight in holding before. If he’d known his parents were going to ditch him he would have used his only phone call to contact Roxy. His parents are really serious about forcing him to shape up, then. Goddamn.

 

\--

 

It’s past midday when Eggsy gets released. He hadn’t slept a wink, and his arse hurts from sitting on the bench all night. Five other men cycled into the cell for anything from dealing drugs to public intoxication, and it was funny commiserating with some of them. Eggsy could almost go as far as to say he made a couple of new friends. When he was arrested, he and the others happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. They were in the middle of a drugs bust and long story short, Eggsy thought one of the officers was being a judgmental prick and punched him in the nose. He’s surprised he got out without the officer pressing charges. He’d initially been worried until he realized that Sunday was a slow night and all of the real criminals saved their activities for Friday and Saturday nights.

 

He walks out of the precinct, unescorted, and looks around for his parents, anyone familiar who might have gotten him out. He’s starving and tired, having refused both food and sleep in the cell.

 

“Eggsy,” comes a steady voice in an unmistakably posh accent. Eggsy turns in its direction and sees a gentleman he’s never seen before leaning against the wall.

 

“Who’re you?” Eggsy says skeptically. The bloke looks like he could work for his father, or he could be related to the Queen for all he looks in a navy pinstripe _bespoke_ suit, dapper as fuck with carefully parted hair and sunglasses. He has an umbrella even though it doesn’t look like rain.

 

“The man who got you released,” is his reply.

 

“That ain’t an answer,” Eggsy argues.

 

“A little gratitude would be nice.” Eggsy shifts his feet impatiently, and he _swears_ the corner of the man’s lips curves up in amusement. “My name is Harry Hart, and I will be your Daddy.”

 

Eggsy’s huffs a laugh because seriously? As reality set in and Harry Hart shows no indication that he’s telling a joke, Eggsy considers making a run for it. Its not like a man twice his age can catch him unless he is fitter than he has any right to be and also does parkour. But Eggsy takes a moment to fully assess Harry and actually questions his ability to escape because it doesn’t seem like Harry Hart lets anything or anyone get past him.

 

“I don’t get a say in it?” Eggsy asks, already subjecting himself to his fate.  

 

“Let’s discuss it over a pint,” Harry suggests amiably, walking down the steps. Eggsy scrambles after him, already showing signs of obedience. “Care to recommend a place?”

 

“The Black Prince,” comes out of Eggsy’s mouth before he can think about it. Harry stops at the kerb and hails a cab. Eggsy stares as one pulls up, and Harry holds the door open for him. He quickly gets inside and moves all the way to the opposite door so that Harry can get in after him.

 

Eggsy tells the cabbie their destination as soon as Harry closes the door after himself. He steals glances at the older man throughout the cab ride, trying to garner as much information from his appearance as possible. At the end of the fifteen minute trip, Eggsy was only able to form two bits of ideas: Harry Hart is hot; Maybe having a Daddy won’t be such a bad thing.

 

The Black Prince is deserted in the middle of a Monday, thankfully. Eggsy orders a white ale,  Harry gets a Guinness, and they sit across from each other in a booth. Harry leans his umbrella against the booth wall beside him.

 

“I’ve heard many interesting things about you, Eggsy,” Harry begins after taking several gulps of his beer. Eggsy stares at his Adam’s apple. “Excellent performance at Cambridge. National level skills in gymnastics. Then you threw it all to shit when you started dicking around in the less savory areas of London. Can you tell me why?”

 

Harry is quite liberal with his vocabulary. Eggsy had the impression that a Daddy is a proper gentleman through and through. However, he knows he can’t take one for face value. A Daddy’s play isn’t manipulation, per se. They have no need to be duplicitous or deceitful to get what they want. This is a power play, a struggle of wills. Eggsy knows by the end of this, he is to come out deferent to his Daddy, not necessarily submissive, and he has toyed with the idea of turning the tables. How, he hasn’t figured out yet.

 

“Thought it’d be interestin’,” Eggsy says nonchalantly with a shrug. “Dispel the ignorance, and all that.”

 

“Immersing oneself in situations to acquire an understanding of them is wise, Eggsy, but you could be helpful in more productive ways, if that is your goal. Otherwise, you are being extremely selfish and irresponsible. Your parents are beside themselves with concern. If you continue this lifestyle, you will become someone else, Eggsy.”

 

“They’ll think I’ll become a criminal. Because that’s all everyone is in the ‘less savory’ parts of town.” Eggsy won’t deny that it is true in a sense, but it still makes him angry. Neither his parents nor Harry can possibly know how people struggle to get by, what they’d do to escape home for a while or try to scrap up some quid. “If they’d been given born with the same silver spoon up their arses we were, they’d do just as well as us, if not better.” Jamal can pick locks like no one’s business and Ryan can count cards. Eggsy knows they’re smart guys and could’ve been his classmates in Cambridge if they’d had more resources and opportunities growing up. Then there are pretentious pricks who only care about money and the prestige that comes with family names and Eggsy doesn’t want to be about that life. He wants to be around people who actually care about who he is.

 

The front doors bang open.

 

“Are you takin’ the fuckin’ piss?” Eggsy looks over and sees Rott with his gang of idiots. He hadn’t seen him since he boosted and crashed his car a few nights ago. The group struts over angrily and a spark of fear flies down Eggsy’s spine. No one messes with Rott and gets away unscathed.

 

“Oh, more young men in need of silver suppositories?” Harry asks dryly. Eggsy glances at him because now really isn’t the time for shitty jokes, although Harry isn’t the one about to get his arse kicked.

 

“We should go,” Eggsy says, meaning to stand, but then Harry says, carefree as you please, “Nonsense. We haven’t finished our drinks,” and Eggsy stays rooted in his seat.

 

“Been lookin’ all over for you,” says Poodle, Rott’s first and roundest twat and in command, to Eggsy. “You’re gonna pay for what you did to Rott’s car.” The entire group of them looms ominously over Eggsy. Eggsy swallows thickly.

 

“Listen boys,” cuts in Harry’s smooth voice, “I’d appreciate it if you could leave us in peace until I finish this lovely pint of Guinness.” Eggsy doesn’t understand how Harry can be so calm and willfully ignorant of the major arse kicking about to take place. When Rott turns his threatening glare on Harry, Harry blinks docilely up at him.

 

“Step away granddad, or you’ll get hurt.”

 

“He ain’t jokin’. You should go,” Eggsy whispers to him because he’ll be damned if Harry gets dragged into his mess and hurt because of it. Harry set his glass down and glances at Eggsy before standing up. He takes his umbrella and starts walking away when Rott and his gang part for him. Eggsy takes a deep breath, his adrenaline already starting to kick in, then Poodle says, “If you’re looking for anover rent boy, they’re on the corner of Smith Street.” Eggsy dies a little inside, mortified.

 

The click of the door locks resound loudly in the empty bar, punctuated by Harry’s clear voice with the words “Manners maketh man.” Everyone turns to look at him, surprised he’s still there (at least Eggsy is) and curious. “Do you know what that means?” Eggsy holds his breath when Rott and the others advance towards Harry, confused. “Then let me teach you a lesson.” Harry shifts his hold on his umbrella and sends a glass flying to Rott’s forehead. The glass shatters, and Rott falls flat on his back, stunned. Eggsy gapes as a bar fight suddenly erupts between his supposed _Daddy_ and five men who had nothing to do with him.

 

Harry wields his umbrella like a deadly weapon, and Eggsy should have figured that was its primary use when it was barely overcast outside. Harry fights like he can predict his opponent’s next move, like more exciting, active form of chess. His hits and counterattacks are elegant, clever, and efficient, one motion transitioning smoothly to the next. When Rott starts to get up, his hand going for his gun, Harry closes the distance between them in long strides and knocks the firearm out of his hands with his umbrella. He then uses it to hit a spot under Rott’s jaw that has him crumbling, slack, to the floor.

 

The bar is riddled with fallen bodies, splintered furniture, and broken glass. Harry finishes his pint and takes Eggsy’s hand, dragging him up from his seat. The barkeep returns just as Eggsy is pulled through the door.

 

They briskly walk a few blocks up before Harry slows down, and Eggsy nearly barrels into him, having had to jog to keep up. His hold hasn’t let up since the pub, but Eggsy isn’t about to say anything about it. He is busy staring at Harry’s perfect hair.

 

“That was tedious,” Harry comments. His hand is hot where it clamps over Eggsy’s, the only evidence of exertion. Eggsy licks his lips. “Our meeting was cut short. We still have more discuss.”

 

“Like what?” Eggsy asks numbly.

 

“Our expectations of each other,” Harry replies. “My role as Daddy.” He stops and lets Eggsy go, finally. Eggsy looks up at him. “I wish you hadn’t seen that. I don’t want you frightened of me.”

 

“’m not scared,” Eggsy says. He’s anything but, in all honestly. He knows Harry can’t hurt him like that and that Harry wouldn’t want to. “You prob’ly did all that cuz they annoyed you, but ‘fanks anyway.”

 

Harry says, “You’re welcome,” like Eggsy’s statement is only half true.

 

Eggsy still doesn’t think he needs a Daddy, but if he is Harry Hart, then maybe it’s ok to want one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legit more actual 'Daddy' stuff in the next chapter. This story will get more interesting, I promise.


	4. Trial Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy asks Roxy for advice. Harry and Eggsy spend more time together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update. Thank you all very much for your comments! If you didn't notice, this story seems to veering in random directions, and while I know how I want this to end, getting there will involve lots of detours and zigzags, probably. 
> 
> This chapter is a little slow. Things will get interesting in the next chapter!! I promise :)
> 
> Again, not Beta'd or Brit-picked.

 

They take a cab to Harry’s home. Eggsy, in all his initial excitement, forgets he was hungry until his stomach growls loudly. Harry invites him into his house and offers to make him sausages with mashed potatoes. Eggsy is so happy he could practically kiss him.

 

Harry’s place is a in a row of posh two story townhouses. Inside is as neat and finely decorated as the man himself. Eggsy looks up the stairs leading to the bedrooms, possibly, but follows Harry through the dining area and into kitchen, where the floor plan is open between the two spaces.

 

“Do you know how to cook, Eggsy?” Harry asks, exchanging his suit jacket for a red and blue apron in a hook on the wall. Eggsy removes his cap and track jacket and throws it on the dining table. He smiles sheepishly when Harry frowns in disapproval. “I have a coat hanger by the door,” he says implicitly. Eggsy hangs his items and comes back.

 

“No, I don’t,” he replies, putting his hands in his pockets. Harry sorts out the potatoes and sausages, as well as some other seasonings and toppings.

 

“Well, this is simple enough. Wash your hands, please.”

 

Eggsy shoulders his way past Harry to the sink just because he can even though there’s plenty of space for the two of them, and holy shit, Harry’s back is warm and rock solid but is that really surprising after witnessing the fight? Harry doesn't deign to comment on his childish behavior.

 

Eggsy is in charge of making the mashed potatoes. He microwaves two large Russet potatoes until they’re soft then mashes them with milk, butter, chives, and some seasoning. Meanwhile, Harry pan fries the sausages. Eggsy thinks it’s a bit hilarious that Harry wears an apron, it’s so domestic, yet it makes sense because its only practical to keep from potentially ruining his clothes. Eggsy should get him one that says ‘Kiss the Cook’.

 

“So, where’d you learn how to fight like that?”

 

“Here and there,” Harry replies cryptically, turning the sausages. “It’s a rare occasion that I’d fight like that.”

 

“It’s pretty amazing that you can, though.” Eggsy leans back against the counter. “Will you teach me?”

 

“I’ll think about it,” Harry says sincerely. Eggsy nods, accepting it for now. Eggsy figures he will start by gauging what kind of man Harry Hart is by being agreeable for now. Harry said they had more to discuss about their arrangement, but he hasn’t said anything about it since they left the pub.

 

Harry starts the kettle and has Eggsy set the table. Eggsy tries to steal more bites of the mashed potatoes but Harry takes the fork away from him on its way to his mouth.

 

“You’ll spoil your appetite,” Harry admonishes.

 

“I’m tasting it,” Eggsy lies. Harry quirks a brow at him. “Again.”

 

Harry sets the sausages on a plate and gives Eggsy that and the bowl of mashed potatoes to take to the table. He removes his apron and exchanges it for his jacket, which he takes to another room that looks like an office. Eggsy doesn’t expect for Harry to serve him, but the older man takes his plate and takes direction on how much Eggsy wants on it. When he’s done, Harry sits and serves himself. Eggsy bites instead of cutting the sausage and practically moans in delight.

 

“So good,” Eggsy says around a mouthful of food. Harry is still slicing his sausage because he’s the type to prepare everything before enjoying it.

 

“I’m glad you approve.”

 

Eggsy keeps an eye on Harry, at the way he practically minces the slices of sausages between bites as if to pass the time. When he reaches for his mug of tea, his hands look larger than normal with long, slim fingers. Eggsy idly wonders what types of punishments they’ve administered. Although Harry seems more like a Daddy who demands respect and obedience simply by his presence, Eggsy wouldn’t doubt that he’s resorted to physical means to keep his charge in line.

 

“Would you like to ask me something, Eggsy?” Harry asks politely, opening himself to conversation. Eggsy didn’t realize he’d been staring so much.

 

“Jus’ tryna get a read on you,” Eggsy replies flippantly, though he’s inwardly trying to devise a way to get more information out of him, preferably about his weaknesses. “You don’t seem like them other Daddys. My best mate’s got one, and he’s a bloody nightmare.”

 

“I see,” Harry says, setting his utensils on his empty plate. “Every Daddy is different, and every client must not be treated the same. Our partnership may turn out to be the most pleasant yet.” Eggsy isn’t sure if Harry is being sarcastic, and he’ll unlikely know for sure, which is unsettling. Since they’ve met, Eggsy’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop. He expected his Daddy to come at him, guns blazing, and Eggsy has prepared his resistance, but instead he’s faced with this mild mannered middle aged man who can also kick serious arse, curses, and has a dry sense of humor. It’s fucking hilarious because Eggsy would already be halfway in love with him if he wasn’t trying to figure out a way to change Eggsy.

 

Well, fucking bugger shit. His parents either know Eggsy better than he knows him-goddamn-self, or they found a really, really good Daddy. Harry has been absorbing information from Eggsy like a sponge, and if he succeeds in his job then its Eggsy’s own damn fault for letting his guard down. Good thing Eggsy at least knows what he _likes_ or he’d be fucked.

 

“Have I said something to offend you?”

 

Eggsy snaps himself out of his minor freak out after discovering he is in _way over his head_ and plays it off as coolly as he can. “’m cool, bruv. Just tired. Never been in holding overnight before.”

 

“I’ll take you home.” Harry gets up and Eggsy stands with him on instinct. Harry gives him a small, appreciative smile and doesn’t make a fuss when Eggsy helps clear the table. Harry stores the leftovers as Eggsy grabs his cap and track jacket, slipping them both on.

 

“I’ll just go from here,” he says. “Cheers for the food.”

 

“I said I’ll take you home, Eggsy,” Harry says, coming into the entrance way with his jacket half on. Eggsy keeps his eyes focused above Harry’s shoulders, but he can still see Harry’s torso flexing movement until its covered. Eggsy steps out the door but hangs back as Harry follows him out and locks up. They walk to the main road where Harry hails them a cab.

 

“I’m not a bird you need to escort home,” Eggsy complains as a taxi pulls up. Harry slips on his sunglasses.

 

“But I’m a gentleman,” Harry opens the door. Eggsy dithers purposefully because if he can’t fight him, he’ll be as difficult and noncompliant as possible. Harry eventually comes around the door and crowds Eggsy towards the cab. This close, Eggsy can smell the spice of his aftershave and feel the heat of his body radiating through layers of fabric. He startles when Harry places a hand on his lower back and gently presses to prompt him inside “Come now, Eggsy,” Harry coaxes. “Unless you’d like to stay with me longer.”

 

Eggsy practically dives into the back seat.

 

When they reach the Unwin house, Harry walks him to the door. Eggsy lets himself inside and shuts the door in Harry’s face. He runs upstairs just as the doorbell rings and hears his mum come into the foyer to answer it. Eggsy doesn’t stay around to listen to Harry and his mum talk. At present, he’s only interested in jumping into the shower to get clean and divest himself of all his frustrations with a hard, quick wank.

 

After his shower, he towels off his hair and falls into bed.

 

\--

 

“Rox, I need help.”

 

It’s after nine at night on the same day he met Harry Hart, and he’s sitting on the doorstep of Roxy’s terraced house. After she started working, she immediately moved out of her parents’ place and found a nice place in Soho. Eggsy waited on her steps because he needed to have this conversation in person and he’d been too impatient to stay at home.

 

“Why didn’t you just go inside?” she asks, unlocking the door and letting them in. Eggsy shuts the door behind them and locks it. He sighs at the warmth.

 

“Percival would have murdered me. Where is he, anyway?”

 

Roxy turns on the lights and toes off her shoes. “He would not have,” she says defensively. “He’s coming over later. I was busy.” Eggsy removes his shoes as well and follows her into the kitchen. She takes off her black pea coat and opens her fridge. “Want anything?”

 

“Whatever you’re havin’.”

 

She eyes her selection of alcohol but ends up turning on the kettle. Eggsy sits at the kitchen bar and rubs a hand over his eyes. “You look like shit,” she says bluntly.

 

“It’s been a long fucking day.” He watches her get two mugs ready with Earl Grey tea. “How was your day?”

 

“It was fine. Just got back from dinner with some clients.” She pours hot water into the cups and sets one of them in front of Eggsy. As the tea steeps, she gets the carafe of milk from the fridge and sugar cubes from a corner of the kitchen counter. Eggsy thought he would have liked something stronger, but the tea warms him nicely.

 

“Met my Daddy today,” he says glumly, staring into his milky tea. Roxy makes an excited noise. “He’s the worst.”

 

“Oh my God, did you run away?” she asks, laughing.

 

“What? No,” he says. “He wasn’t even around when I left. I don’t think he’s officially started yet.”

 

Roxy moves them to the living room and curls up on the loveseat. Eggsy takes the armchair across from her and takes off his cap.

 

“That’s what Percival did, too. Kind of like a meet and greet, I guess.”

 

“Samplin’ the goods?” Eggsy guesses with a snort. Roxy sips her tea.

 

“Assessing the challenge,” she suggests.

 

“Same ‘fing,” he retorts.

 

“You’re so bitter,” she teases good-naturedly. “Did you want a declaration of love first? Did he not state his intentions when he met your parents?”

 

“Roxy, he’s going to beat me,” he says seriously. Her smile fades. “He’s not a stuck up prick or a snob or a cruel bastard, although maybe that last part remains to be seen. I can hate him on principle if I try hard enough but that’s going to be really fuckin’ hard. He’s got what I like, Roxy, and he’s got it in fuckin’ spades.”

 

“You’ve seen that he’s got a big cock then?” she asks quietly but with her usual humor in an attempt to ease the tension. Eggsy appreciates it but he’s nearly at his wit’s end and can't find it in himself to laugh.

 

“ _Roxy!_ ” he groans, distressed, rubbing a hand over his face.

 

“Joking, joking,” she giggles. She wraps her hands around her mug and stares into it thoughtfully. Eggsy can tell by the wrinkle between her brows and the teeth on her bottom lip that she’s forming a considerate solution to Eggsy’s dilemma. Even though her Daddy worked out for her and she suggested that Eggsy enjoy his, she understands what Eggsy wants and will always back him up, no matter what it is. It’s why they stuck together like glue in Cambridge; it’s why when she stopped talking to him, the distance between them never yawned into a rift because it’s what they don’t need to say but already know that will always keep them together.

 

After a few long minutes, she looks at him and smiles reassuringly. Eggsy visibly relaxes. “This is going to sound really stupid,” she starts, “but just be yourself.” When Eggsy’s face falls in disbelief, she quickly adds, “Eggsy, I’m serious. Be you. Be funny and a little shit and infuriatingly _likeable_. Whatever it is you do. Just keep doing it.”

 

“Are you taking the fucking piss?” Eggsy bursts out, his initial hope draining out of him. “Did you not hear what I just said? I’m going to _drown_ , Roxy. I’m not even treading water at this point! What the fuck is so funny?”

 

Roxy is laughing so hard her tea is in danger of spilling all over her, and Eggsy hopes its still piping hot if it does because she’ll deserve a bit of pain for making light of this situation. He’s trying not to laugh himself, but he can’t help the smile that creeps across his face when she pries one hand off her mug to wipe her eyes.

 

“Oh Eggsy,” she says fondly, setting her mug on the coffee table between them, “can you think of a single person who has honestly ever said,  ‘no’ to you? Like, if you _really_ wanted something, whatever it was, has it ever been denied you?”

 

“You mean when I asked God for a genuine best mate for life and He sent you my way? Yeah, I fuckin’ remember.”

 

“I’m being serious. Jesus.”

 

“Yeah fine.” Eggsy sips his tea thoughtfully. He doesn’t ask for much or anything impractical, for starters (except in the case of not being under the responsibility of a Daddy), so whenever he does want something, he receives it. He thinks about how his parents are far too indulgent with him even though he’s a delinquent and an arse for constantly worrying him, but they love him and he loves them. As for non-family members, Eggsy just tries to be a decent human being, and if that’s why people like him enough to find him agreeable and therefore give him favors, then there’s no secret to it. He doesn’t demand for things with a sense of entitlement, he’s not a prick. And he won’t say he’s the greatest guy ever because he has flaws like everyone else does, but he’s always been true to himself. He can’t say exactly what it is about him that attracts people, but maybe Roxy has a point. And the people who don’t like him for whatever reason, he doesn’t want or need anyway.

 

“I mean, I don’t always get what I want,” he concedes because realistically, he doesn’t.

 

“Right, but you’re an amazing person, Eggsy. There’s a reason why your parents or anyone else they’ve sent your way are always on your side. You win over everyone by not even trying!”

 

“So you want me to ask him to turn the other way, then?” Eggsy says dryly.

 

“No. Just convince him to be on your side. The ‘if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em’ thing is a bit defeatist. Get him to join you not by beating him but by genuinely trying to be his friend.”

 

“I don’t want to be his friend.”

 

“Eggsy, you basically told me you’re halfway in love with him. Just go the hundred percent.”

 

“Roxy…” he says hesitantly. He knows what she’s saying, and it makes sense. Eggsy never became acquainted with anyone with the intention of making them an enemy (unless he knew them to be arseholes) and he should give the same treatment to Harry, even though Harry technically is his enemy in this case.

 

“Look, that’s the best advice I can give you. Now finish your tea.”

 

Eggsy takes a sip from his cup. The tea’s gone lukewarm.

 

“Is that how you got Percival mad for you?” he asks half-jokingly.

 

Roxy looks down, suddenly turning shy. Eggsy’s eyes widen comically. “He’s not…. I mean, I don’t….” She plucks at her nails distractedly and shrugs. “It’s not like that.”

 

“Nooo,” Eggsy says emphatically, shaking his head. “I’m pretty sure you have him eating out of the palm of your hand, literally and figuratively.” Roxy rolls her eyes, unconvinced. Eggsy doesn’t think that Roxy needs to convince anyone to her side like he does though, because she’s the one doing the beating or having others crawling to her. “What time is he coming over?”

 

“I told him to come by any time after ten. Why?” Eggsy looks up at the clock on the mantle and sees that it’s five minutes till the hour. He just leans back in his seat and sips at his tea until the dregs stick to the bottom. Roxy begins to tell him about a particularly difficult client at work when they hear the lock turning. Eggsy glances at the clock and Roxy follows his gaze.

 

Percival finds them in the sitting area and frowns at Eggsy’s presence. He says, “Good evening, Roxy, Eggsy,” politely and takes Roxy’s pea coat from where she left it over a chair and heads upstairs. Eggsy makes a face at Roxy.

 

“I really hope the sex is fantastic,” Eggsy comments as he takes his empty cup to the sink. Roxy snickers but refrains from replying. Percival returns with just his shirt and trousers on like he lives there, and Eggsy supposes he does, or would perhaps like to. Roxy likes her space, and it’d take one hell of a man to make her give some of it up for him.

 

Eggsy cleans his cup and puts his cap back on “Well, thanks for the tea and all, Roxy. I should get going. Nice to see you, Percival,” Eggsy says, clapping him on the arm as he passes him.

 

“May I call you a cab?” Percival offers, walking Eggsy to the door.

 

“I’ll be alright. ‘S not too cold out. Good night.” He slips on his shoes and salutes Roxy as Percival opens the door for him. Eggsy steps out into the crisp night and inhales deeply. He made a good decision to see his best friend. She always gives really good advice.

 

\--

 

Eggsy is woken at seven a.m for breakfast. He showers, shaves, and puts on his usual street clothes because he doesn’t have anywhere fancy to be. He heads downstairs into the dining room and stops in his tracks when he sees Harry sitting to the left of his usual seat. Eggsy abruptly turns around and nearly crashes into his mum.

 

“Morning, babe,” she says, kissing him on the cheek. “You sleep okay?”

 

“Er, yeah,” he replies hesitantly. “I actually forgot I have a ‘fing so….”

 

“Oh, sit down, Eggsy,” Michelle says, practically dragging him to his seat. Harry looks up at him.

 

“Good morning, Eggsy,” he greets amiably.

 

“Mornin’,” Eggsy mutters, taking his seat. Daisy comes running in, their father following behind her, and jumps onto Eggsy’s lap. “Hey, big girl,” he says happily, setting Daisy on his lap.

 

“Eggy!” she squeals, waving a paper in front of him. Eggsy takes it and looks at the drawing. Its of Eggsy with yellow trackies and a plain cap. His head is a giant circle and his hands have stick fingers, one of which contains a red flower. Eggsy hugs her tightly and kisses the top of her head.

 

“It’s wonderful! Cheers, Daise.”

 

“You a flower,” she says, pointing at it. “Like in Beauty and the Beast.”

 

Eggsy laughs. “Am I beauty or the beast?” he asks. She turns her head to look at him.

 

“Uhh, beauty!” she says triumphantly.

 

“I won’t argue with that,” he agrees with a wide smile.

 

“Come here and let your brother eat, love,” Michelle says to Daisy. Daisy carefully climbs off of Eggsy’s lap and runs over to the other side of the table next to their mum. Michelle lifts her onto her booster seat and pushes a plate of eggs and fruit toward her.

 

“Any plans for today, Eggsy?” Lee asks, spreading jam over his toast. Eggsy scoops some scrambled eggs onto his plate and two sausage links. He takes two crumpets from a pile.

 

“Hang out wiff Harry, I guess,” he replies with a shrug. Lee blinks slowly, as if he isn’t sure he misheard but most likely did. Eggsy winks at Harry, who looks decidedly amused.

 

“Eggsy expressed an interest in martial arts,” Harry says, as if martial arts is the same thing as a pub brawl. “I know of a few trainers.”

 

“Excellent,” Lee says happily, glancing at his wife. “I leave him in your hands, Mr. Hart.”

 

After breakfast, Lee leaves for work. Michelle and Daisy head off to Daisy’s piano lesson, leaving Eggsy and Harry alone in the dining room. Eggsy folds up Daisy’s picture of him and puts it in his jacket pocket. Harry idly runs his finger along the handle of his tea cup.

 

“Were you serious about the training?” Eggsy asks a bit eagerly. Harry gives him a sidelong glance.

 

“Yes. I meet with Mr. Winston twice a week though not for martial arts. I thought I’d bring you along.”

 

“I’m to tag along with you like a pup, am I?”

 

“If you should have better plans, then I’d be happy to reverse our roles.”

 

“When is it?”

 

“In a couple of hours.”

 

Eggsy excuses himself to his room to kill the time. He tapes up Daisy’s drawing of him above his desk and grabs his phone. He goes back downstairs and lounges on the couch as he surfs the web. Usually he’d be out wandering the streets with his mates, looking to cause trouble during rush hour.

 

Harry comes in later with the newspaper and tells Eggsy he ought to get dressed for the gym. Eggsy packs a gym bag. They take Harry’s hired car back to his place to get his clothes before heading to a studio in Mayfair.

 

It’s a single story gym with mirrors on the three walls. There are weights and benches as well as a stretch of mats on the opposite side of the machines. The studio is empty except for a tall, very muscular man and a woman, blonde and nicely toned. They look up when Harry and Eggsy walk in.

 

“Mr. Hart, hello,” says the man, approaching them with his friend. He is a few centimeters taller than Harry and maybe thirty pounds heavier with muscle. His ice blue eyes flit over to Eggsy. “This is your friend?”

 

“Yes, this is Eggsy. Eggsy, this is John and his colleague, Rachel,” Harry says, gesturing accordingly. Eggsy nods his head.

 

“Hello.”

 

“John here is a two time Olympian. Rachel attended the recent Olympics for the hurdling,” Harry continues. Eggsy swallows audibly. “Let’s get changed then, shall we?” He leads Eggsy through a short hallway across from the entrance and turns into a door labeled for men. The locker room is decently sized with a row of lockers and several shower stalls. Harry sets his bag on the bench and starts unbuttoning his tan double breasted jacket. Eggsy slowly undresses as well. He’s going to die. Even though he participated in gymnastics in secondary school and uni, he hasn’t been keeping in shape (unless running from the Met and people wanting to beat him up count).

 

Harry hangs his jacket in a locker then unravels his tie. Eggsy watches the silk length of fabric slide from the collar of Harry’s shirt and turns his back because it won’t do to get an erection right now; and since when did something as simple as a tie get him so worked up?

 

Eggsy opens a locker and quickly strips. His tank top is a little loose when he pulls it on but his gym shorts are a little tight over his arse. Eggsy tries not to show his embarrassment on his face as he sits and laces on his tennis shoes. He is so out of shape and he would be his entire inheritance that Harry can probably lift more than him. He stands and looks over at Harry, who has on a fitting Underarmour shirt and matching running shorts. His shoulders seem broader than usual, probably because the shirt shows off his defined pecs and tapered waist. His legs are long and pale but nicely toned. No wonder he could fight so well when he looks like _that._ Eggsy rubs his elbow self-consciously and follows Harry out to the main room

 

Rachel is apparently Eggsy’s trainer, since they don’t know where he is with his fitness level and Harry’s been with John for years so they are going to continue their usual routine. Eggsy explains his gymnastics background to Rachel as they warm up on the treadmills. She then has him doing a few floor exercises before moving to the weights. Eggsy’s forgotten what it feels like to push his body to its limits. Rachel is nice and pretty but she doesn’t take Eggsy’s shit when he starts to get cross with her after about an hour into their workout and she continues to push.

 

After an hour and a half, Eggsy collapses on the mat for a cool down stretch. He looks over across the way and sees Harry doing squats with what looks like a hundred and fifty pounds on his shoulders, John spotting and counting for him. Rachel gets Eggsy into a position to stretch his hamstrings and he gasps when she pushes his leg a little farther back than he’s used to.

 

“You haven’t lost much of your flexibility,” she comments, impressed. Eggsy breathes through the dull ache in his muscles. “How do you know Mr. Hart? He’s never brought anyone with him here before.”

 

“Hm? Er, he’s my Daddy,” he says, feeling his face heat.  Great, now Rachel will thinks he’s a posh, insolent brat who needs a proper scolding, not that it’s far from the truth, but still. Rachel’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

 

“Oh.” She releases his leg and takes the other, pushing Eggsy’s leg dangerously close to his chest. A slow smile spreads across her face. “Lucky you,” she says with a grin, sounding sincere. “He’s in great shape for a middle aged man. He must have brought you here so that you can keep up with him.” Her eyes glance over in Harry’s direction suggestively. Eggsy’s following groan might be due to pain or agreement, he isn’t really sure. It’s more than a little hot that Harry is so much stronger than him.

 

Rachel tells him he did a job well done and that she hopes to see him again after a few more stretches. Eggsy stays lying on the mat, every inch of his body sore. Harry eventually comes over and looms over him, drenched so much sweat that his shirt clings to every line on his torso and his hair falls messily over his forehead. Eggsy would reach out and try to push the unruly locks back if he could.

 

“How are you doing, Eggsy?” Harry asks.

 

  
“I think I need help up.”

 

Harry leans down and helps him stand. Eggsy steadies himself on Harry’s arms (holy shit, rock solid) and starts walking in the direction of the locker rooms, hobbling slightly. Harry holds open the door for him.

 

“I won’t be able to move tomorrow,” Eggsy comments ruefully.

 

“At least you won’t be getting into any trouble,” Harry says with a hint of smugness. Eggsy starts to undress, his arms already protesting.

 

“Are you going to help me get dressed and shit, then?” Eggsy asks, half joking because damn, he remembers what it was like training when he first started on the gymnastics team in secondary school, and he couldn’t even sit without feeling every muscle fiber protest. His elbows somehow get caught in his fucking _tank top._ He feels warm hands carefully pry the top away. He’s glad he’s too exhausted to appreciate the gesture.

 

“Would you like me to?” Harry asks, his voice close to Eggsy’s ear. Eggsy turns around and decides to test the theory by sitting on the bench and sticking his leg out expectantly. Harry blinks at him patiently despite his cheekiness. “You failed to ask politely,” he says with poorly disguised amusement. He walks around Eggsy’s leg and starts pulling off his clothes.

 

“So you will if I do?” Eggsy asks, smirking to himself as he removes his shoes and socks. Harry doesn’t reply, but he glances at Eggsy over his shoulder before walking to the showers. Eggsy stands to peel off his shorts and rummages for his towel in his bag. He picks a stall next to Harry’s and kind of wishes the showers were open, but the more he thinks about it, he realizes that its best it isn’t.

 

Harry’s hired car takes them to a sandwich place nearby. Eggsy waits inside the idling car while Harry runs in to order for them. He returns nearly fifteen minutes later with two subs, bags of crisps, and smoothies with protein powder.

 

“Which one do you want?” Harry asks. “I have strawberry banana and pineapple mango.”

 

Eggsy takes the strawberry and banana one, leaving Harry with pineapple and mango. “Cheers,” Eggsy says, removing the cover from the straw and taking a sip. He hums in approval. “So should I call you ‘Daddy’ now?” They haven’t discussed it, but he’s pretty sure Harry is officially working with him. Harry takes a pull from his straw. His hair is still wet and curls slightly over his temples. It makes him look human, attainable. Eggsy’s hand tightens around his cup.

 

“If you’re serious about this, then yes. By all means.”

 

Eggsy’s never heard Roxy call Percival ‘Daddy’ before. At least, not when he’s present, anyway. He’s surprised he even gets a choice in the matter, although it’d be a waste of energy for Harry to enforce something as insignificant as what to call him.

 

“Don’t you got an alias?”

 

“Yes. It’s Galahad.”

 

Eggsy repeats it to himself. It’s a bit of a mouthful, but it suits Harry. “What do you want to be called?”

 

“’Harry’ would suffice,” Harry replies simply.

 

“Ok, Daddy,” Eggsy says cheekily. Harry’s eyes say he’s exasperated but his lips twitch in amusement. Eggsy sucks up a mouthful of his smoothie and swallows it with a hum. “Can I try yours? Here.” He exchanges Harry’s for his and sips from Harry’s straw. It’s quite good, a little sweeter, and he decides to keep it for himself.

  
“Do you just take things out of people’s hands?” Harry asks, chastising.

 

“Out of their pockets, too,” Eggsy says. He should like to try pick-pocketing Harry at some point, just to see if he can get away with it. Harry seemed like the kind of bloke to keep his wallet in his breast pocket, probably left side since he’s right handed.

 

They finally turn into the driveway of Harry’s house.

 

“Feel free to sit on the couch,” Harry says when Eggsy starts dragging himself into the dining room. Eggsy turns into the living room and slouches into the brown, soft leather with a moan.  Harry hands him the sandwiches and crisps and removes his jacket before joining him on the opposite end. He turns on the plasma TV hanging above the fireplace and hands the remote to Eggsy, who waves it away in favor of unwrapping his sandwich. Harry finds a news channel and keeps the volume low.

 

They eat in relative silence. Harry offers to bring Eggsy to his next session with a boxer once he’s feeling up to it. Eggsy happily and gratefully accepts the invitation.

 

When they’re done. Harry discards their trash (“Just this once, Eggsy.”) while Eggsy stretches out on the couch with a yawn, pleasantly full and tired. Eggsy’s watching a reporter describing a water break in Fritzrovia when unbeknownst to him, his eyes droop closed.

 

\--

 

Eggsy wakes up a few hours later. The TV is still on but muted, and he’s covered with a throw blanket. He looks over and sees Harry in the armchair reading a book. Eggsy stares at him for a moment, feeling oddly content at doing so. Harry’s hair has been tamed to its usual style of perfection. His fingers turn the page with a quiet flip, his right index finger immediately settling under the next page afterwards.

 

“Enjoy your nap?” Harry asks, peering over at him. Eggsy smiles at having been caught and turns onto his back with a slight stretch.

 

“Yeah. What time is it?”

 

“Nearly four.” Eggsy’s been asleep for less than two hours, then. He reaches into his pocket to grab his mobile. He has a bunch of texts from his mates all asking him if he’s alright and if he wants to hang out with them. Eggsy spends a few minutes replying to them and sits up.

 

“I should probably get home,” Eggsy says, putting the blanket aside and standing.

 

“Won’t you stay for dinner?”

 

“I, er,” Eggsy honestly doesn’t have anywhere else to be. He can’t run the streets with his mates if he can barely outpace a turtle with all his muscles aching as they are. And maybe that had been Harry’s plan all along, to work Eggsy physically until he is too exhausted to cause any trouble. That can only work for so long. The exercise will eventually improve Eggsy’s strength and endurance. Then where will Harry be?

 

As if Eggsy could dream of outrunning Harry, who has legs for days and undoubtedly, the finely honed instinct of a predator. It’d be interesting to see if Harry can catch him by outwitting him. Eggsy should like to try that, too. He’d like to try a lot of things to test Harry’s limits and capabilities.

 

“Yeah, guess I can stay,” Eggsy finishes nonchalantly, sitting back down on the couch. Harry gives him the faintest of smiles, but no less sincere.

 

“Good. You can help me make it.”

 

Eggsy’s sound of protest falls on deaf ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty much making this up as I go :/ I'll try to be better! Thanks so much for reading! :D

**Author's Note:**

> please let me know what you think. I will read all comments from the comfort of my trash fort in my home, the landfill.


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